


(Oliver Gets His) Dessert

by Vixx2pointOh



Series: The Unwritten [12]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Dessert & Sweets, F/M, Olicity Valentine's Day Smut-A-Thon, Oral Sex, Porn with Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-15
Updated: 2018-02-15
Packaged: 2019-03-18 17:37:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13686528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vixx2pointOh/pseuds/Vixx2pointOh
Summary: "I know we keep missing out on dessert.  Come around after work."It took him less than 30 seconds to decide to leave work.Aka: Dessert is Served.





	(Oliver Gets His) Dessert

**Author's Note:**

> I wasn't actually part of any smut-a-thon this year, but I was bored on the bus ride to work, so, enjoy....

  
**I know we keep missing out on dessert. Come around after work.**

Oliver looked at the text message he’d received about a minute ago as he signed the final ordinance that Becky had piled up on his desk before she left that evening.

He’d already spoken to Raisa and said a goodnight to William, promising that they would not only eat breakfast together tomorrow, but Oliver would also make his favourite. His progeny seemed content with the deal struck.

He carded his fingers through the shorts of his hair and debated silently for a moment about whether he could down tools now, at 9:23pm and take Felicity up on her offer.

It was a short debate, lasting barely thirty seconds and the side of him that was _supposed_ to push him to stay and finish some more demanding paperwork jumped the fence and declared “ _It’ll be here tomorrow_.”

He launched himself upright, sending his high-back executive chair scuttling backwards before he speed-walked to the door without as much as a glance backwards.

* * *

  
He knocked on the loft’s front door, which was still a slightly weird necessity. He didn’t want to push Felicity as he was happy to go at _whatever_ pace she wanted to and if that meant knocking on the door he once thought would be a place they lived together in as husband and wife, _then so be it._

His phone chirped in his pocket and instinct found him pulling it out to read the message.

**The door is open, come in.**

His brow creased as his instant thought fell to Felicity leaving the door to her apartment unlocked despite what the years had taught them about the criminal elements that existed in the world. He would lecture her about that later, _probably_.

He walked through the door and closed it with a soft click behind him, deliberately locking the same. His phone chirped again in his hand.

**Grab the bottle of champagne in the fridge and come upstairs.**

His eyes roved around the dimly lit loft, a few downlights in the kitchen the only light source aside from the City's nightscape bleeding in through the floor to ceiling windows.

Oliver opened the fridge and found a bottle of Cristal Champagne lying on the middle shelf, a post-it note with a hand-drawn heart on it stuck on the top.

He smiled to himself as he took out the bottle and held it in the crook of his elbow.

 **Lose the tie and jacket**.

Oliver looked around room again, but his instincts told him the room was empty and Felicity was simply making an educated, and correct, guess that he would have come straight from the office.

He loosened his tie and slipped it over his head before he shrugged off his deep blue blazer and laid them both on the kitchen island.

Champagne back in hand he started for the stairs.

Five stairs up and he heard the familiar spark of his message tone.

**Drop the pants.**

He didn’t disguise the smile that plucked the corner of his lips and with it still sewn onto his expression he unfastened his pants and dropped them to the floor. He stooped and collected them from the stair and hung them neatly over the railing.

He carried on up the stairs half expecting another message before he reached the top, but nothing came.

He rounded the corner into the bedroom and despite the years of being shocked, surprised, taken off guard, blindsided or caught unawares, this was the first time ever where he was completely without the ability to speak or move.

The most he could manage was a blink.  
So he blinked.  
Twice.  
Wondering if maybe what was before him was some sort of mirage and he was actually just asleep on the hard pillow of his desk back in the Mayor’s office.

“Hi,” Felicity breathed as she sat on the edge of the bed with her legs crossed at the knee and her arms poised behind her body, propping her up and arching her chest in a curve that sent Oliver’s jaw to the floor.

She was without a single scrap of clothing, her creamy skin like the most luxuriant of blank canvases ever created. It wasn’t until Oliver blinked the third time that he noticed the black, patent leather stilettos she was wearing, one of which was seductively hanging from her foot as she subtly rocked her leg back and forth.

Her hair was a golden curtain around her shoulders, soft waves framing her porcelain face.

Felicity smiled as Oliver stumbled a few more steps into the room. He was still blinking in long, slow blinks and his lips were parted but silent.

It was somewhat reminiscent to the look he wore after the first time they had sex after the island – reverence, awe, disbelief, pleasure, enchantment, happiness… it was all there again and Felicity began to feel the familiar warmth under her cheeks that always blushed them a rosy red colour.

“Hi,” Oliver finally managed a word, but it was thin and muffled.  
He cleared his throat, wet his lips and tried again, “Hi.”  
“I’m glad you came,” she offered sincerely before she pointed a slender finger dipped in a pearlescent red polish towards the bedside table.

Oliver’s eye’s followed where she pointed – an ice bucket and two empty champagne flutes – and he walked there quickly before letting his eyes settle on her perfect form once again.

He popped the cork, not bothering to collect it from the other side of the bedroom, and poured two glasses.

He held one out to her, beckoning her closer for his own salacious reasons with a smile.

Felicity stood and watched as the breath fell out of Oliver’s lungs.  
She was completely naked.  
Unequivocally bare.  
Nude.  
Free from _any_ coverage. Pubic hair included.

She took the glass from his hand and clinked it against the side of his.  
“To dessert,” she cheered softly, her blood red lips forming around the second word like it was a pouted kiss.  
“To dessert,” he echoed as he reached out his fingertips and brushed them down the soft slope of her breast, levitating them like a ski jumper off the peak of her dusky pink nipple.

Felicity took another sip of the rich, velvety smooth champagne before she leaned against Oliver and placed the glass back on the table behind him. Her nimble fingers moved down the placket of his baby blue shirt while her eyes kept anchored in the familiar pools of his.

Mesmerised by the weave of blues in her eyes and the slight twitch of her sinfully red lips, Oliver let himself be undressed as he stayed almost catatonic.

He heard the sound of his shirt buttons tapping the floor as it pooled at his feet but he didn’t even blink. Her fingertips slalomed and skated across his chest, her touch lightening over the twisted and taut scars of the branding where his Bratva tattoo had once been.

He flinched when she laid her palm on top of it, but as her body heat warmed it gently the tension fell from his body. His eyes lulled, relaxed, and a soft sigh misted from his parted lips.

She leaned in, the tips of her breasts skimming the mountains and valleys of his muscular chest as she floated onto her tippy toes and pressed a chaste kiss into the slope of his neck.

His rapid heart beat slowed as though her lips were the dial that calmed him. She traced an invisible path along his shoulder, slightly deepening each subsequently kiss she placed there. His fingers moved absently to the back of her head, floating through her silky tresses and softly moaning at the sensation of it passing like liquid between his fingers.

She was so soft.  
Every part of her body that he touched with his scared, broken, cracked and calloused hands was like touching fine silk, heated just enough that it felt like it melted around him.

She kissed his chest, staying a little longer where his heart thumped behind years of torment. Oliver had been torn, broken and blackened, but in her he could find his peace.

“Do you know what’s on the menu for dessert?” she whispered into his warm chest, her breath making it quiver underneath her poised lips.  
Oliver groaned an incoherent word that Felicity took to mean he wasn’t sure, but he was sure he was going to like it.

She kissed back up his chest, curving around his neck before dropping off at his chin.  
“You,” she hummed as she slipped her hand down his briefs and gathered his semi-erect cock into her palm.

He tipped his head down and caught her lips with his while she gently rubbed her hand up and down his shaft, paying special attention to the way her thumb floated over the tip of his head to relish the guttural moan that inevitably followed.

He hardened quickly under her attentions and her other hand gripped into his ass before splaying his cheeks and running an adventurous finger over his taint.

Oliver’s teeth nipped her lip and Felicity laughed quite deviously at his reaction before she hooked her thumbs over the waistband of his briefs and fed them from his legs.

She stepped back, severing all contact despite his whimpered protests, and walked around the other side of the bed. The sound of her heels tapping against the floor made Oliver’s cock twitch and his smile broaden as he watched the sloping muscles down the back of her legs constrict and release with each stride.

It was a work of fucking art.

She collected a tray which carried a mountain of strawberries in a white ceramic bowl, a smaller matching bowled of cream whipped into soft peaks and a bottle of decadent chocolate sauce.

She placed the tray on the foot of the bed and Oliver watched, captivated, as she brought one cream-covered strawberry up to her lips and took a bite. The juice bled into her lips and wove tiny, sticky trails down towards her chin that had Oliver’s mouth dry and his tongue hanging from it.

She drew the nails of her other hand along the inside of his sinewy thigh before traversing the sensitive underside of his engorged cock. He watched her swallow the strawberry and take another, equally slow, bite before she dropped the stalk onto the tray.

“It needs something else,” she growled deliciously as she leaned down and picked up the bottle of chocolate sauce.

She tipped it slowly up and down before she cupped Oliver’s cock in her hand and smiled.

He caught her wrist after she popped the cap but before she could dribble the luxuriant treat across his skin.  
“Could it be you?” he asked, his eyes almost pleading the request as his tongue hungrily licked his lips in anticipation of her answer.

She blushed, the kind of warm pink that misted down her neck and fanned across her chest.  
“You want me?” she whispered, the quizzical tone making Oliver grow even harder (if that were possible).  
The way she still didn’t quite fathom how much carnality she evoked from him undoubtedly added to his love for her.

“Felicity,” he spoke her name like the start of a hushed prayer, “I’ve wanted you since I first saw you.”  
“The bullet-ridden laptop, I know,” she laughed softly – a story that would never age in her heart.  
“No,” he rasped, “before that.”  
Her eyebrows piqued curiously.

She didn’t understand what he meant because he’d never told her.  
Why? He didn’t know, maybe he’d been waiting for this moment.  
_This exact moment._

He brushed her hair back, pinning it to her temple before he leaned in, brushed his lips across her cheek towards her ear and whispered “lie down Felicity and let me tell you a story.”

The butterflies knotted in her stomach and suddenly she felt her body grow weak in his arms. There had always been a part of her that had felt his presence long before he showed up at her office door all those years ago, but Felicity had always played it off as nothing more than a strange feeling – an imagined connection – too long before there had actually been one.

Wild dreams.  
Fanciful wonder.  
But now, looking into the depth of his eyes she wondered if – all this time – that little tiny spark in her heart and encampment in her brain had been right.

She lay down on the bed, careful not to knock the tray at the edge, before Oliver seated himself between her tented and slightly spread legs.

He gripped the stalk of a plump strawberry between his fingers and dipped it into the cream, covering more than half. Like a paintbrush he drew paths across her chest, leaving a trail of fresh cream in the strawberry’s wake.

“Before I came back, before they found me,” he started, his voice shaky but soft, “I visited Starling, particularly Queen Consolidated in the shadow of the night.”  
He paused to gently kiss up the remnants of cream from her supple chest.

His tongue lapped up whatever was left of the _paint_ before his mouth sucked in around her breast and he teased the tip of it with quick, uneven flicks of his tongue.

Felicity hummed with pleasure as her fingers skimmed across his scalp while her other hand fisted in the linen. A jolt of pleasure made her arch off the mattress when he bit her just enough to perfectly skirt the line between pleasure and pain.

He dropped her breast with a soft pop before he circled his lips and blew gently across the top of it making Felicity groan his name.

He took the chocolate sauce in his hand and hovered above her, just watching, for a few seconds before his knee pressed into her sex making her gasp and the sudden, glorious friction that spread out between her legs.

The cap popping made Felicity snatch her lip with her teeth and watch, wide-eyed, as Oliver drizzled the sauce across her other breast. The feeling was sensuous and made her pant behind her lips as her teeth sunk deeper into the lower one, undoubtedly denting it.

The slightly warmed liquid melted into her body and tickled her skin.  
“I was in my mother’s office,” he continued, watching the way her chest rose and dropped and her eyes burrowed into his, “and I heard the soft tap of woman’s shoes on the hard marble floor.”  
He breathed deeply, his senses recalling the _ding_ of the elevator and the fresh lilac and vanilla scented perfume that floated through the air, getting stronger as the _clip, clip, clip_ sound of footsteps drew closer.

He remembered smelling his own panic, the salty smell of the sweat across his brow. The way his heart tightened in his chest – _did he want to get caught?_

He dropped his mouth to Felicity’s chest, his kisses more rushed this time as he devoured the tiny rivers of chocolate that held hints of vanilla and coconut – the taste of the woman he loved.

He swallowed her breast into his mouth, treating it the same as he had the other, erratic sweeps of his tongue, a hollowing of his cheeks, listening for the sounds of her growing pleasure, feeling her fingers tighten against his scalp. Her flesh moulded around his mouth and with each moan that fell beautifully from her lips he grew hungrier.

He could smell her arousal and feel the heat emanating from her sex and he crisscrossed his kisses down her chest and towards her thrumming sex.

He looked up the line of her body, “I hid in a corner of the room, concealed in the darkness and cloaked in black when,” his eyes hooded over peacefully as he recounted, “…it was like seeing the sunrise after the longest day,” he whispered, watching her once more as questions threaded across her arched brow, “I don’t remember the last time I smiled before that moment, but my lips moved on their own and I smiled just enough to know I wasn’t dead.”

He kissed her smooth mound gently, lingering there to inhale the scent of her.  
“A soft face with a touch of innocence walked only a few feet away from me. In a split second I imagined a life I hadn’t dared dream of in years. I spent years in _purgatory_ waiting for death but ahead of me, for the first time, I saw life.”

He kissed her deeper, letting the subtle notes of her arousal mist his lips as he held back fateful tears.

Felicity lifted her back from the bed and ran her fingers gently through Oliver’s hair as his lips stay nestled into her sex. Her thumbs stroked his temples, gently urging him up, begging him to look at her – to tell her what he saw.

Because she already thought she knew the answer, she needed to hear it from him.  
He looked up, tears hung in the corner of his eyes, “I saw you,” he whispered, the last secret finally released.

Felicity gasped, not out of surprise, but out of a realisation that what she had always believed to be true – was.

She knew the night he spoke of and she could recount the same moments he did.  
She hadn’t felt alone in that room, but, curiously, she hadn’t been scared by the feeling that someone was watching her either.

She had carried that memory with her for years, _always wondering…_

His mouth fell back onto her sex, cupping and swarming her until his fingers spread her open and his tongue sliced between her folds. Her head tipped back, her body propped up on one elbow while her other coaxed through his hair.

His lips embraced her clit making Felicity cry out his name while his unshaven jaw prickled at her sensitive skin.

He sucked her bud inward, making it swell in his mouth before he lightly skimmed his teeth across it. She bucked beneath him and he didn’t attempt to hold her still as her hips tipped upwards, absently riding his face.

He drunk up her arousal and let it coat his lips as she dropped her body back to the mattress. He closed her thighs as best he could and locked them tightly with his elbows as he positioned his body around her knees. He slid his tongue over her clit and between her lips, delving deeper between them as she moaned and tried to open her body up to him.

“Oliver,” she hummed as she fought back against the lock of his elbows.  
He applied a little more pressure to her his strokes, using the flat of his tongue to draw steady lines between her folds.

He reached his hand between her legs her dipped his thumb into her wetness before teasing her puckered hole. She responded with a honeyed sigh and Oliver dipped his thumb gently inside her as she squeezed around him.

When her breathing became rapid and his name fell like stunted breaths from her lips, he separated her legs with his knee, sliding it all the way up to meet her sex. Instinctively she rubbed against it, relishing the friction to quench her desperation, while Oliver lightly teased her nipples between his thumb and forefinger.

The veil of sweat on her chest and the dusting of pink underneath her skin told Oliver she was close and when his mouth dropped back down south he wasted no time in discovering her clit with his tongue and sucking it firmly.

He sunk two digits inside her and let her writhe against his mouth, taking what she wanted in the rhythm that she needed.

He played and teased and sucked and licked in varied and uneven movements making her body search and rock and press into him with wanton need.

Felicity’s shoulders shook as she locked her eyes onto him. Her peered up, their eyes meeting amidst the intimacy. She watched as her hips circled his mouth, feeling the way his tongue toyed with her clit and his fingers skimmed her g-spot.

With their eyes entrenched in each other and his words _I saw you_ playing through the hot air now full of their soft pants and moan, Felicity felt her walls clamp in around his fingers and the familiar warmth in her belly, like flames licking up her core.

“Ol-luh-,” she could barely speak as he sucked her clit again.  
The sudden jolt was like pouring pure alcohol on the fire.

It was impulsive and spectacular.  
Her climax thundered up her spine and ricocheted down her thighs like a stampede of wild animals.

His name was all she could say and it came out in chopped syllables.  
“Oh.”  
“Luh.”  
“Ver-Fuck.”

He smiled at her animation as he bathed his tongue in her sweet release.  
His Dessert.

He feasted, lapped, drunk… _hell, he even slurped_ … the rich sateen spend as her body quivered and trembled until there was nothing left.  
  
She fell back, breathless, onto the mattress and beckoned him closer with the tips of her fingers brushing the tips of his hair.

He climbed up her body and lay down beside her. His fingers traced the glowing lines of her blush as it fanned like branches down her ivory chest.

She wanted to ask him if his story was true but when she saw the sincerity in his eyes she knew, without a doubt, that it was. Perhaps another time they would talk about it more, but for now it was enough to know that the connection she had felt when she left Moria’s office that night wasn’t caused by the six cups of coffee she had downed that day, _no, it was caused by fate._

**~ The End ~**

 

**Author's Note:**

> I made it a little sappy with the 3x14 spill didn't I?
> 
> Anyway, hope you liked it xox  
> Tumblr / Twitter @someonesaidcake


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